Not quite finished, but I wrote it in ninth grade when I was heartbroken at discovering that one of my friends in the graduating class drank alcohol and sometimes got drunk into a stupor and had to be driven home. That was before I discovered that virtually everyone in every grade drank alcohol. Not a direct parody, but to the tune of Billy Joel's "Leningrad", as you can probably guess from the lines "____ was born" and "She went to school." Because, again, I can't think of original tunes.

Abigail
By C. Randall Nicholson

The girl was born
Like any other tyke
Learned how to tie her shoes
And how to ride a bike
She helped around the house
And fetched the mail
A girl to make her parents proud
A ball of joy was Abigail

She went to school
For twelve or thirteen years
And laughter was the source
Of nearly all her tears
A vivid character
Both strong and frail
A friend to all she came to meet
And all were friends to Abigail

Then one night they had a blast
Seniors, juniors, all were asked
Dancing, laughing, making out
Not a healthy place to be hanging about
Well Abigail joined in the fun
She danced a storm and when she was done
She sipped a beer simply because
She didn't know how bad it was

She asked her friends
What this was all about
She wanted more
And so they helped her out
She downed a pitcher-full
And then a pail
It doesn't matter who you ask
The minx that night was Abigail

Woke up next day
And dragged herself to school
Had an ordeal
Of trying not to drool
She tried to stay on task
To no avail
The teachers pondered long and hard
“What is wrong with Abigail?”

She was out again that night
As far as she knew it was all right
She wanted more the more she had
Though to tell the truth it tasted bad
She kept on going and then some more
And soon she passed out on the floor
Her so-called friends laughed and turned away
Only one of them would stay

He drove her home
Made sure she wasn’t dead
Helped her throw up
And tucked her into bed
He stopped and looked at her
Behind the veil
He knew he’d do this every night
Because he loved poor Abigail

And so he did
For several weeks on end
He did his best
To try to help his friend
They always drowned their woes
In pints of ale
And so they lost the only thing
That could have helped his Abigail

Then another party came
And Abigail was a drinking dame
She quickly passed out on the floor
Just like every night for ten weeks before
The neighbors called the authorities
The noise and lights had failed to please
But a friend of theirs had tipped them off

The kids all ran
And bolted out the back
Her friend was there
But got lost in the attack
The door was busted down
The folks turned pale
For who should greet their tarnished eyes
But that saint named Abigail

The jig was up
She couldn’t hide it now
And the adults
About just had a cow
The coppers pulled her in
She went to jail
“An angel trapped within a cell”
Was often said of Abigail

Then one night they let her out
For good behavior and

You still can read her epitaph
“Here lies our dear sweet Abigail”

​
​Main Page: Poems and Songs by C. Randall Nicholson